


my heart in your gentle grasp

by saunatonttu



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: FEH setting, M/M, New Year celebrations, cheesy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: The Order of Heroes goes to celebrate the New Years with the remaining Nifl royals. Innes and Lyon are among them.





	my heart in your gentle grasp

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken some creative liberties with FEH's worldbuilding as usual, but hopefully it's not too confusing. Happy 2019 for everyone. :)

Beneath their weary feet, the snow crunched. Above their heads, the winter sun’s cold rays spread over the sky. On the ground, the sunlight flickered across the snowy fields and made the white glimmer like diamonds. The winter day had been harsh back in Askr, but Nifl’s was twice as biting, cold intruding even through layers of warm clothing.

Up ahead leading the group were the Askran royal children along with the commander Anna of the Order of the Heroes. King Gustav did not join, despite it being his kingdom that had recently allied with the kingdom of ice. Beside them walked the summoner, who had got used to the freezing temperature absurdly fast and was now looking around the blinding field of white with something any onlooker could only call nostalgia.

Beside all of them walked Fjorm, the currently oldest princess of Nifl. She was already dressed up for the new year celebrations as she didn’t suffer so much from the cold. She tried to keep her kimono from being ruined by the thick blanket of snow on the ground, but that was a fool’s errand if there ever was one. Still, she remained unbothered by the snow otherwise.

Behind the Askrans, princess Fjorm, and the summoner came the royals from other worlds – royals that had been taken from their homelands and brought to the world of Zenith. Said royalty included Innes and his weary companion whose face was already flushed from the short walk from where they had been warped to.  Both were covered in thick cloaks, the other prince more so than Innes but somehow managing to look cold as Innes stole glimpses of him.

There were others around them, quietly chatting over the sounds of their footsteps, but Innes’ attention remained on Lyon alone. The tip of the other’s nose had turned bright pink from the icy temperature, and the pale colour even reached what little of his cheeks were visible from under the scarf tied around his neck and pulled up over his mouth. With the woollen cap tugged low, only little of Lyon’s face could be seen and the little of it was getting pinker the longer the group walked in the cold.

The tips of the lavender hair peeking from underneath the layers of fabric had gathered frost on them, and Innes nearly reached out to rub it away. He would have done so if they had been alone, but as it was, he only kept an eye on Lyon to make sure he wasn’t sniffling from an approaching illness. Lyon noticed it, of course, and his eyes crinkled with a smile as he looked back at Innes, the purple of his eyes more vivid than ever under the winter sun.

Innes’ face relaxed at that, the tension he hadn’t noticed gone with just a simple look from Lyon. His hand reached out for Lyon’s and took hold of it. Mittens covered both their hands, so holding onto each other this way didn’t do much, but Innes found he liked the act of it despite how foolish it made him appear to himself.

Something about reasonless affection set warmth in Innes more effectively than even his clothes did. How illogical and absurd was that? But there was no helping it now. _Love_ , as everyone said, was as strange as it was powerful.

As the group trudged forward, the castle they were headed for got closer and bigger, its nearly translucent walls soon looming over all of them. It was impossible to not stare at the looming structure and the surrounding lake that was mostly frozen solid around the castle and before the mountains in that rose high in the horizon.

“It’s amazing how far off we were warped,” Innes muttered both to himself and to Lyon. “One would think warping was more accurate than that.” It was useless grumbling on his part; he knew very well how taxing long-distance warping was even on properly trained mages.

Lyon was quick to say so, as well, with pinched brows and muffled voice, “If you’re not familiar with the area you’re warping to, it’s not all that accurate even with a map.”

“Yes,” Innes agreed begrudgingly as he leaned in to adjust Lyon’s blue-gold scarf, “but I’ll not forgive them if you get ill, either way.”

Someone beside them chuckled, but Innes paid no mind to it, although a bristling sensation went up his neck and it was even stronger than the chilling touch of air.

Lyon’s eyes turned even softer at his words, and his hand squeezed Innes’. “…I don’t catch illnesses that easily, Innes. But I appreciate your concern.”

For the remainder of the trek to the castle made of ice-like crystal, they didn’t speak up again, but they kept bumping against each other as they continued walking in one another’s personal space. Their eyes might have wandered elsewhere, but their hands remained firmly together until they reached the castle that could have very well contained several small castles within itself.

Innes burrowed deeper into his clothes, feeling chilled simply from watching the enormous architectural wonder of ice, as he along with the rest of the considerable group of royals and other heroes made their way over the frozen lake to the castle’s looming entrance. Waiting for them was the recently crowned King of Nifl, who appeared composed as he received his guests and sister – though it was only to the latter that he allowed a warm smile and a hug.

Watching the siblings interact from a distance, Innes couldn’t help but remember Tana – his own reckless idiot of a sister – and a pang of something hit his chest for one passing moment. It disappeared as soon as it had appeared: Innes continued to be glad that Tana wasn’t a part of _this_. He managed to nod serenely at the King of Nifl when he made the rounds of greeting each royal individually, sparing a few uncomfortable and stiff pleasantries with each.

Even so, the promise of the rapidly approaching new year cast relief upon everyone, even this fledgling king that Innes found himself comparing with Ephraim. Whether it was their stature or the way they held themselves – Innes didn’t know, but something about Hríd made him think of the irritating man that also had yet to appear from the summoning altar in the Askran castle.

It was for the best, however, Innes thought as he glanced at Lyon as King Hríd exchanged the necessary pleasantries with the prince of Grado drowned under several layers of clothes even over the dark violet kimono. Lyon’s voice was soft, his words nearly incomprehensible even though Innes was almost as close to him as Hríd was.

The young king seemed to comprehend quite well, as he merely gave a squeeze at Lyon’s mitten-covered hand before moving on, ignoring the visible shudder Lyon gave at the cold touch from him.

Innes frowned before ushering away the unwelcome thought of Ephraim holding Lyon’s hand.

It was silly – foolish even.

Soon enough they all proceeded to enter the castle, everyone following after Hríd and Fjorm. Their youngest sister would not join, Hríd had murmured regretfully and which Innes had overheard, as she was quite sick – a rarity, apparently. Something about the shock of Muspell’s different climate had unsettled her body. 

The inside of the vast castle was even more impressive than the outside, and the two present royals of Nifl had quite an amusing time watching everyone else take in the interior of what they had been looking previously from the outside. The towering walls looked frail, the translucent blue hue soft and fragile, and it made everyone watch their step out of nonsensical fear of breaking the floor beneath them.

Of course it didn’t break – rather, it was close to breaking _them_ as the Askrans and the others not from Nifl kept slipping on the ice-made floors. Innes managed to not make a fool of himself even as Lyon held onto him tightly while slipping plenty enough for both of them.

“Lyon,” Innes muttered sternly, but couldn’t quite bring himself to detach Lyon’s tightening grip from his arm even though it was threatening to bring him down with the other. When Innes didn’t begin to scold him outright, Lyon’s eyes flicked up to him, away from the floor.

“I must apologize,” Fjorm’s clear voice rang across the vast hall, “I forgot how tricky the castle is for guests.”

She said so, but even she had to grasp for support from her elder brother –  if Innes’ eyes didn’t deceive him, which they rarely did. Innes suppressed a snort as Lyon stumbled and nearly brought down the both of them. The scarf around Lyon’s neck slipped a little, uncovering the lower half of his face, which left his gasp unmuffled and made Lyon flinch at the sudden brush of cold against his cheeks.

Innes barely managed to keep them upright this time as he grasped Lyon by the elbow firmly. Their stumbling went unnoticed among the chaos around them – likewise, Innes barely noticed the surrounding ruckus as he peered down at Lyon to make sure he was alright. Not for the last time for that night, he was sure.

From there, the celebrations for the new year began, hours before midnight struck. Dancing was out of the question as the guests would only make an embarrassment of themselves – both because of the floor and because dancing in kimonos would add its own problems. But that didn’t mean King Hríd didn’t have anything prepared for them aside from the soft flutes whose music whistled gentler than the wind outside.

He led them to the ballroom, but it was the moment for the court mages to step forward rather than the Askrans. The number of them seemed small, but after Muspell’s attack, it was a wonder even half as many remained – and it ceased to matter even to Innes when the mages began twisting around in a dance, flicking up water from nothingness and freezing it mid-air into different shapes and forms before sending them into the crowd with magic.

Ice-made butterflies fluttered their wings as they flew, which caught everyone’s attention and admiration, if not even shock. By Innes’ side, Lyon had taken off his mittens and held up a finger for one of the sculptured butterflies to land on, delicate wings still fluttering. Innes stared, just as transfixed as Lyon even while the Nifl mages continued on to the music that ascended and descended in volume at unpredictable times.

The inside of the castle was not warm by any means, but the butterfly began to melt on Lyon’s skin, droplets of cold water soon dripping, and Lyon flinched at the sensation. It was slow, and the butterfly soon batted its wings, driven away by the heat of Lyon’s skin.

The wide room filled with delighted gasps when ice-feathered swallows took to flying over their heads. Translucent birds shone white and blue as they flew over their heads, sometimes settling on someone’s head or shoulder for a brief, passing moment. Innes couldn’t help but gawk despite himself, which amused Lyon by his side.

Hríd continued smiling and laughing quietly to himself at the room’s entrance, which Innes caught only barely between the gasps of adoration that the flying, animated ice figures pulled around him. The King of Nifl seemed pleased with their reactions, and so the show went on for a while longer until the sun began to set – which gave way to a new kind of spectacle that drew admiration from everyone but the ones used to it.

The orange-dyed sunrays penetrated into the translucent blue crystal walls and travelled in until every corner of the castle appeared to glow like the evening sun.

“It’s beautiful,” Lyon murmured. His face reflected the same wonder his voice did, and Innes’ chest tightened as it often did when Lyon’s expression twisted with the same amazement as it did now. Even after months of slowly getting used to the dance that was their relationship, Innes still found himself affected like this on occasion.

“It is,” Innes said as a stray reflection of the dying sunlight touched Lyon’s face. His eyes remained solely on Lyon, never moving to look around them. After a moment, Innes muttered, as serious as he always was, “Extraordinary.”

Lyon’s face flushed pink when his eyes trailed back to Innes’ and saw the intensity of the even, unblinking stare. Then, that face melted into a softer smile that had Lyon’s purple eyes crinkle at the corners as his lips parted to speak through the twitch of the grin. “You’re not even looking at it, Innes…”

The flicker in his eyes told Innes Lyon knew what Innes meant but chose to play coy. Innes’ own mouth twitched from the effort to keep a smile away. “I have the most breath-taking sight right in front of me, I assure you.”

Now, at the end of the year and at the end of another month in this world, Innes found himself thankful as Lyon sputtered at his words as if Innes had said something ridiculous. He hadn’t ever imagined that he would find a person he’d be so at ease with – a person so captivating that all the useless distractions faded away from Innes’ mind. Someone might call Lyon a distraction; perhaps Innes would have done so before as well. However, things had changed since those times.

“I can’t believe,” Lyon said at length, “no one believes me when I tell them about the things you say to me.” A ray of sunlight traced Lyon’s cheeks, adding more colour to already pink skin. Innes’ fingers itched to touch, but being surrounded by so many people at once kept his hand at his side.

“Good,” Innes said, neck burning underneath his own loosely tied scarf. “Eirika’s teasing is quite enough.”

Lyon’s face lit up with his barely suppressed smile, and Innes looked away with a huff as the ruckus around them only grew in volume. The younger guests tried to catch the ice butterflies soaring about, their giggles filling the air instead of the flute music, and so Innes was satisfied that no one could hear the drumming of his heart as Lyon leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“It’s a shame,” Lyon murmured afterwards before his attention slid back to the dancing mages and the soaring swallows that chased after the butterflies in a strangely captivating show. “I wish more people would see your kindness.”

Strands of lavender hair stuck out beneath the cap on Lyon’s head and framed his face messily. Innes stared at those strands as he mulled over Lyon’s words, until he took off a mitten to curl his fingers around Lyon’s and turned his gaze back to what went on in the translucent room that could well be from bedtime stories mothers told their children.

Slowly, the sun went lower and lower until the oranges turned into pale reds before the sun completely stepped out of the moon’s way. Outside, the temperature dropped, but somehow it didn’t reach into the castle.

“Magic,” Innes muttered to himself as he realized it, at which Lyon gave him a sideways glance as if he were confused it had taken this long for him to notice it. Innes couldn’t defend himself as they and everyone else were led to enjoy dinner in the main dining room, which paled in comparison to Castle Askr’s in size but was more tastefully decorated. The main dining room of Castle Askr was bathed in gold and luxury whereas the one everyone stepped in only showed barest hints of luxury, decorations only ever depicting falling snow flakes.

The castle itself seemed to embody everything that made the kingdom of ice what it was, Innes thought. It was a little much but fascinating all the same.

The long table was covered with food: mostly soups and broths of different kind, some vegetable-based ones to balance the meat-heavy dishes, and servants were already pouring warm wine for each glass set upon the table as they began to find their seats. Perhaps that was why it didn’t even take a quarter of an hour until the whole table had erupted in loudly spoken conversation and jokes that one might hear in a lousily kept tavern. Innes winced, but at the same time he didn’t hate the warm atmosphere that such noise brought around him.

Even he couldn’t help engaging in said conversation, though he didn’t sink so low as to yell out crass jokes like _some_ (Joshua) others. Amidst all of this, he got the feeling that Gerik would perhaps be at home around this rowdy dinner table. He didn’t know where the thought came from – possibly from the wine and the end-of-the-year nostalgia that he refused to acknowledge building up in his chest.

He was quite far from home, but that was the same for everyone.

Squeezing Lyon’s fingers beneath the table, Innes reminded himself that he had found something that he wouldn’t have found back home even if he had been searching. Back home, it was far too late for this precise thing. Relationship.

It was a worry that would carry into the next year: the possibility of returning home and having to do so without Lyon, who hadn’t directly said he wouldn’t come but hadn’t given any indication to the other direction either when Innes had brought the topic up once.

Every time Innes thought of the possibility – no, it was a probability – his mood would sink, though it was never that high to begin with if his thoughts trailed there.

Now he shooed the thought away by drinking both soup and wine and holding Lyon’s hand tighter than necessary. Lyon’s fingers squeezed his back, thankful for the offered warmth of skin-on-skin touch.

Now that the castle was warmer, mittens and caps were no longer a necessity, though everyone still kept scarves loosely around their necks. Occasional sneeze broke through over the loud chatter as everyone ate, muffled by fabric. The atmosphere remained overall comfortable and warm, which made Lyon smile softly and his eyes crinkle with something Innes would dare to name yearning.

Innes slurped down more soup to hide his own matching smile. It wouldn’t do to let these people think he had let down his guard yet. He had a reputation to maintain, he told himself.

But that didn’t stop him slipping a frostflower in Lyon’s hair later when they had found a balcony just for the two of them. It was possibly the sappiest thing he had done so far, but as no one was looking, Innes couldn’t find it in himself to feel foolish, especially when the light blue of the frostflower looked glowed softly against Lyon’s lavender hair under the moonlight.

King Hríd and princess Fjorm had gone outside to arrange for one last amusement, as they said, so everyone had a bit of time to themselves. Naturally, Innes spent it being lovestruck, even if that wasn’t the word choice he himself would use. But that was what he was – lovestruck; stricken with the side effects that came from having feelings for someone.

Lyon looked at him with surprise as his hand went to touch the flower tucked in his hair. “When did you…”

“Princess Fjorm was courteous enough to have it brought over from their garden upon my request,” Innes said pleasantly, lips curling as he studied the flower tucked safely in Lyon’s at times messy nest of hair. Tonight it was presentable, though unruly, and Innes couldn’t resist the urge to fiddle with the tips of soft hair. Innes’ eyes relaxed from their usual narrow squint with which he regarded others. “As I thought, it suits you very well.”

Lyon’s smile first showed in his eyes as they crinkled at Innes, but soon his mouth curled up too. He murmured, “This is a good way to end the year.”

“And start a new one,” Innes agreed as his hand settled on the back of Lyon’s neck. Lyon flinched at the cold touch but relaxed into it soon. The smile on his face was one of the softest Innes had ever soon, though the moonlight might be playing tricks on him.

There was much to be thankful for this year. While Innes wasn’t humble about his talents, he knew he ought to appreciate what he had, both through chance and his own work. One never knew when they could lose everything.

(No, Innes’ mind didn’t slip to Ephraim.)

The sudden long whistling sound that rose from the lake below startled them both, and their gazed went to the sky just in time to see something explode into a myriad of blue sparks that, for a few fleeting seconds, formed the shape of a frostflower, the same kind that Innes had just slid into Lyon’s hair.

“Fireworks,” Innes said unnecessarily, a bit of awe making into his voice.

Lyon’s fingers twitched around Innes’, and delight filled his voice when he said, “Yes.”

Never had one word alone been filled so much contagious joy. Innes again fought inwardly so he wouldn’t grin like a fool. It usually wasn’t this hard to contain himself.

 Quietly, during the seconds that it took for his and Lyon’s gazes to slide back to meet each other, Innes promised himself he wouldn’t let unhappiness befall the man in front of him. For so long as he could help it, he would make sure to see a gleam of happiness in those purple eyes.

Lyon took a shaky breath, and his fingers shivered between Innes’.

“Thank you,” he said simply, softly, and somehow Innes knew what he meant from the way his eyes peered up into his. “I…”

“No,” Innes insisted as he lifted Lyon’s hand up and kissed at the chilled skin. “For such a thing, you needn’t give thanks.”

He didn’t need to ask to know what Lyon had been about to thank him for. Lyon was painfully obvious sometimes – and Innes certainly had working eyes _and_ ears. Unlike certain people. Most importantly, he paid attention.

Lyon’s lips seemed to quiver for an instant. “It _is_ something I…”

“Then,” Innes compromised, “allow me to thank you as well, at least.” Just when another whistling sound began to rise from below, he dipped his head and kissed Lyon. The fireworks crackled in the sky once again, and Lyon’s sigh was noiseless against Innes’ lips.

Lyon’s hands rose to grip the front of Innes’ kimono while Innes’ hand, the one not in Lyon’s hair, pulled Lyon closer. The kiss could only last for so long until they needed to separate, but they remained in each other’s personal space, Innes’ forehead pressed against Lyon’s and their eyes locked to one another.

“Thank you,” Innes murmured, perhaps uncharacteristically softly, “for loving me as you have. I will take care of you from now on, as well.” His heart pounded a little too hard with each word, but he knew Lyon wouldn’t reject what he was saying.

As the old year went away and the new one came, well-timed fireworks marking the occasion, Innes couldn’t think of a better place to be than where he was right then staring at Lyon’s not quite timid face. It was where he wished he could be – selfish, perhaps, but for the time being that didn’t matter much. Only the present moment did.


End file.
